


He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother

by FlyAway_33



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: ADHD, Adoption, Angst, Anxiety, Blood and Injury, Brothers, Car Accidents, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Brian May, Hurt John Deacon, Hurt Roger Taylor (Queen), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Character Death, Original Character - Freeform, Parent Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26534929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyAway_33/pseuds/FlyAway_33
Summary: Freddie, Brian, Roger, and John are all adopted brothers each carrying their own childhood trauma. The boys are faced with a life-altering situation that plunges them into one of the hardest periods of their lives. Can they support each other whilst remembering to care for themselves as well?Otherwise, a dumpster fire of Queen hurt/comfort.
Relationships: Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor, Jim beach/original character, John Deacon & Brian May & Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor
Comments: 110
Kudos: 128





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Soul Brother](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19014763) by [Spread_your_wings02](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spread_your_wings02/pseuds/Spread_your_wings02). 



> Title from “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother” by the Hollies
> 
> I’ve been working on this for months and months… possibly about a year. Totally inspired by Soul Brother by Spread_your_wings02. I took the idea and ran with it. I have several chapters finished and ready to go, and if you enjoy hurt/comfort you’ve come to the right place!

Living in a foster home didn’t go well for some kids. Other kids found homes they wanted to stay in forever, and even fewer kids actually got to live out that dream. For Freddie, Brian, Roger, and John, they were some of the lucky ones that were given the opportunity to be adopted by people who cared about them. They were safe and they were loved.

The boys all had pretty rough pasts, as most kids adopted past toddlerhood did. Freddie’s parents had both been killed in a hate crime during the start of a war in his old country when he was five. Brian’s parents had both succumbed to injuries from a car accident he’d been in as well, though uninjured. He was six when he entered foster care then adopted. Roger had been taken away from an abusive home just before his seventh birthday and John’s parents had both passed from cancer within two years of one another. 

Freddie had been with the Beach family for about four years and Brian three when Roger and John joined the family. Freddie and Brian, then ten and nine, respectively, and used to life with Mr. and Mrs. Beach tried their best to help the little ones acclimate to the new home. Roger was seven and John was five. Freddie and Brian both remembered how hard it had been for them when they were new to the foster system and their new family, and they were both bound and determined to make it easier for the boys. However, they soon discovered that both Roger and John were quite damaged and that they had their work cut out for them.

The younger boys came to the home within a month of each other. Roger had been the first of the two, having been taken straight from hospital to the Beach family’s house with nothing but his favorite blanket and a broken arm. Three weeks later, John’s mother passed, and he was taken in as well, completing the sweet little family, according to Mrs. Beach.

Brian was skinny, but already a head taller than Freddie at the time. He tried desperately to keep his wildly curly hair in check and often had it gelled and combed to the side. Freddie had buck teeth but a handsome smile nonetheless and charismatic dark eyes that practically sparkled with mischief. He combed his own curly hair back as well, but was more likely to wear his fluffy mess of curls natural at home than his brother. Roger was small. Smaller than a seven year old should be but he was being steadily nursed to health in his new home and some color now filled his previously ghostly pale cheeks. His honey-blond hair was combed to perfection by his foster mother and swept delicately over his bright blue eyes. He was a frail child but his feisty nature was slowly coming out, proving little Roger to be quite the handful. John was two years younger than Roger but was ever so slightly larger than him: the average size of a five-year-old. He had wavy, messy auburn hair that he left free, and kind, green eyes. He was quiet, but the other boys soon discovered he could be your best friend or your worst enemy. No in between. 

They were the most handsome boys Mrs. Beach claimed she’d ever seen, and she cared for them and doted on them as though they were her very own flesh and blood. Mr. Beach was a bit more subdued than his missus and often seemed awkward with the children. He worked as a corporate lawyer and didn’t get to be around for much of day-to-day life and didn’t quite know how to interact with them despite having had Freddie and Brian for quite a while. But he loved them nonetheless, and worked hard to ensure the family could live a comfortable life.

The Beach’s didn’t make the boys call them Mum and Dad. Those words weighed too heavily on all four of the boys’ hearts. Instead Mrs. Beach was Mam (pronounced Ma’am) and Mr. Beach was Miami. Mam and Miami Beach: Freddie’s idea, of course. 

The four boys shared two rooms on either side of the upstairs hallway. Brian and Freddie, being the oldest, shared the slightly larger room while John and Roger shared the smaller one. Freddie and Brian’s room had two twin beds set up dorm room style, but John and Roger had a bunk bed, Roger on the top bunk and John on the bottom bunk. The boys shared clothes often because they were close in age and size. Rather, Brian and Freddie shared and Roger and John shared, and as they grew the older boys passed their clothes down to the younger ones until they were all pretty much the same shirt sizes. Pants were another story entirely. It soon became quite a normal family despite no one actually being related. They were brothers in every way except biological. 

These four boys all carried their own baggage but at the end of the day they could all agree they led pretty great lives as parts of the little patchwork family. The tragedies and horrors they’d all faced had certainly shaped them, but as Mrs. Beach would whisper as she held any one of them after a nightmare: everything was okay, they were safe, they were loved.

Years flew by and the boys worked on themselves with the support of their family. Everything the four boys went through, they went through together. Freddie had his painful teenage rebellion phase that made the Beach’s go prematurely gray and caused his brothers plenty of anxiety (Roger remembered with fervent embarrassment needlessly crying in Mam’s lap begging her not to kick Freddie out for breaking curfew); Brian suffered from bipolar depression, often scaring the shit out of his brothers (and causing John to sit outside his bedroom door for hours, just listening to make sure he was okay); Roger struggled to deal with his emotions appropriately and was plagued with tantrums and nightmares more often than not; and John had a hard time letting himself get emotionally close to anyone including his brothers at first, as he had an internalized fear of losing everyone he loved. 

They had their fair share of damage, sure, but over all they were doing all right.


	2. The Road is Long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie and Brian gain a little brother.

1956

“Freddie, wake up darling!” a soft coo sounded in 10-year-old Freddie’s ear, and he blinked up at his adoptive mother. She was glowing in the golden light of morning coming through the crack in his bedroom curtain and her smile was enormous, almost giddy.

“Mam?” Freddie sat up and rubbed his eyes, yawning sleepily. 

“I have to speak with you and Brian, darling. Come with me to wake him up?”

The little boy gave her a confused blink but followed her out of his bedroom nonetheless, heading straight into his younger brother’s room. He crawled up onto the bed as she woke the other child just as sweetly, and with a gasp and poof of bedhead curls, nine-year-old Brian emerged from his lump of stuffed animals, his favorite— a badger he’d gotten from a trip to the zoo— clutched to his chest. “Mam? Fred?”

“Good morning, doll. I have something to ask your brother and you.”

Brian peered up at her in confusion before exchanging a glance with Freddie, who only shrugged. They both shifted their full attention to the beaming woman before them.

“Well loves, you remember how we all talked and agreed that we could open our family to another child in need?”

The boys nodded, but both reined in their mounting excitement. They weren’t new to this world, they both knew disappointment came hard and fast on either side of foster care.

“How would you like to have another brother?”

…

Roger came home that afternoon.

Freddie and Brian had been waiting anxiously all day, home alone while Mam and Miami went to pick up the new foster kid. They had told the boys all they knew about him: he was seven and had been taken away from parents who didn’t take care of him properly, as Mam had explained. His name was Roger and they were not to crowd him when he came home. He would be rooming with Brian, whom already had a bunk bed.

Mam had explained to them that they needed to be kind and make the new boy feel welcome, think back to how they had felt when they first arrived, and empathize with him. They had even come up with ideas of how to make him feel comfortable themselves. Brian and Freddie had spent all day buzzing with anxious excitement, cleaning their rooms and compiling a bin of toys for their new foster brother. Once they had gone through their things they focused on Brian’s bedroom.

“Which bed do you think he’ll want?” the lanky boy inquired, standing back to observe the stripped bunk beds. They were changing both sheet sets as Brian didn’t care which bed he got to keep and they figured a choice would make the new boy feel welcome and safe. They had been in his shoes before, after all. 

“I don’t know, but we’ll make them both look fabulous!” Freddie cheered even as he struggled to find the correct end of a fitted sheet.

Eventually, after hard work and lots of wondering and considering, Brian’s room was spotless, and a laundry basket full of stuffed animals, matchbox cars, and blocks lay neatly in the center with a handmade card from both boys rested gingerly on top. It was nearing dinner when they heard the putting of their old family station wagon pulling up the drive, and they raced downstairs to perch on the couch, eyes locked on the front door.

Both of their hearts pounded so loud in their chests they were sure the other could hear as the lock clicked and the door opened to reveal the smallest seven-year-old either of them had ever seen. Freddie had to force down an excited squeal at the sight of the boy. Miami gently herded him into the living room where his white-blond hair caught the light and Freddie and Brian could get a good look at him. He was certainly small, and wearing a pair of too-big overalls and a red striped t-shirt. His enormous blue eyes and tousled hair gave him an almost cartoonish appearance. He had a blue blanket clutched to his chest, tucked up under his chin in an apparent effort to self-soothe. Freddie’s first thought was that this was the real-life Linus from Peanuts.

“Hi Roger!” Freddie shouted, sliding off the couch to go greet him, but Brian gasped and caught Fred’s shoulder, remembering what Mam had said about not crowding him.

They all seemed to hold their breath as every eye turned to the tiny blond boy. He froze, startled, only his eyes moving as they swept over Freddie, those intense blue orbs seeming to see straight into his soul. To everyone’s surprise except Freddie’s, a wonderful smile split over Roger’s thin face, revealing rather straight, pearly baby teeth. Immediately the atmosphere grew ten times lighter.

Freddie stopped a few paces away, smiling warmly at Roger. He was cute, but as the 10-year-old got an even closer look at him he could see the affects of whatever situation the boy had come from. Those giant blue eyes were red-rimmed and had circles below as though he hadn’t slept in years. A fading bruise shadowed his slightly hollow cheek. Roger let the blanket fall away from his chest and to his side, revealing a thick plaster cast all the way up past his left elbow. 

A lump swelled in Freddie’s throat as he put all the pieces together. He’d seen enough of the foster system before he’d gotten lucky to land in the Beach’s home. He to knew what all of it meant and he knew he’d have to explain to Brian later. Brian was lucky: like Roger he’d come straight here. He hadn’t had to see much of what other kids in the system had come from. It would all surely go right over his fluffy head. 

“Hello, Roger,” Freddie repeated, lowering himself to the floor to sit criss cross and pulling a matchbox car out of his pocket. He offered it to the boy, still beaming at him, “I’m Freddie. Welcome home.”

Wide, azure eyes studied him a moment longer before flashing to the car, and back up again. Freddie gave him a gentle nod, and Roger sunk to his knees, reaching for the car as a tiny smile began to tug at the corner of his little mouth.


	3. With many a-winding turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger’s first night with his new family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, well thank you for the lovely reception! This chapter is probably riddled with typos (no beta we die like men) but it’s super soft and melty so I hope that makes up for it. Happy reading, lovelies ❤️

The boys were sent off to show Roger around while Miami ordered a pizza for dinner. Mam stayed just out of view from them, watching. She trusted Freddie and Brian: they were far too intelligent for their ages and they had hearts of gold, but she worried for the littlest boy. Transitioning into a new home was a terrifying thing for a seven-year-old. For anyone, really. She watched like a hawk as Freddie and Brian led him into the latter’s bedroom. 

Mam watched from the doorway, her heart swelling with pride for her boys’ kindness. They were so gentle with him as they encouraged him to dig through the basket of toys. To Mam’s surprise and utter delight, Brian seemed to be able to sense when Roger was getting overwhelmed because the second the corners of those blue eyes crinkled in discomfort, Brian was gently ushering the boy away from the toys and toward the bunk beds. Roger complied cautiously, his blanket cuddled to his cheek and his thumb sneaking up to his mouth.

“You should pick a bed,” Brian hummed, sweetly, intuitively stepping back to give him space. “That way you can put all your favorite toys there and they’ll be there when you go to sleep.” He settled onto the floor beside Freddie and the toy basket and nodded in encouragement when Roger glanced back at him questioningly.

Mam, Freddie, and Brian all watched in complete fascination as the silent little boy considered his choices: He blinked blearily at the beds, his head cocked slightly in thought. He then peered around the room, his feet glued to the same spot as he turned his gaze up, down, left, and right; twisting around in effort to get a 360 degree view without moving. His gaze found Brian once more and the older boy gave him another encouraging smile, motioning his hands to shoo him toward the beds. 

Roger cautiously approached the yellow wood of the ladder, peering up toward the top bunk. The others didn’t realize it, but what appealed to him about the top was the idea of being hidden away, above eye-level, and protected by the sturdy rails encircling the perimeter. He lay his good hand on one of the rungs, his blanket tucked into the crook of his arm. He slowly began to climb, inching his way using the hard cast-covered elbow of his left arm to support him on that side while he used his right to hold on. 

At the top of the ladder Roger tucked and rolled over the rail and onto the soft duvet. He smiled, laying a hand on the navy fabric, tracing lightly over the printed stars identical to the one on the bottom bunk. He felt safe up there, hidden away. 

Suddenly Miami shouted from downstairs “Pizza’s here!”

Roger visibly jumped and his eyes widened in surprise, immediately darting to Freddie and Brian to gauge their reactions to the shout. He seemed to relax a bit when he noticed that no one else was spooked. 

“Boys, Roger darling,” Mam cooed, sweeping into the room at last. “Time for dinner. Come on, sweetie, can you get down by yourself?” 

Roger studied the ladder for a moment before nodding and swinging his leg over to clamber onto the ladder. He was surprisingly agile for having a broken arm and was able to descend quickly, pulling his blanket along with him. He toddled along behind the other children on the way down to the dining room, watching their actions and learning every moment.

... 

Bedtime could be hard for any seven-year-old in an unfamiliar place, but for a boy in Roger’s situation it was a much larger feat. He was fine getting into the cozy jammies Mam laid out for him, and he was fine brushing his teeth standing in line at the bathroom sink with Brian and Freddie. Freddie had even giggled and poked gently at his shoulder, smiling as he informed the blond that those pajamas had been his years ago, and then Brian’s before they’d both outgrown them. That pulled a small smile from Roger. In a funny little way it made him feel like he belonged. 

He was not fine, however, after Mam tucked he and Brian in and left them in the dark with nothing but the glowy stars stuck to the ceiling to comfort him. 

Roger was not a baby. In his mind he chided himself angrily for being fearful of something as stupid as the dark, but he couldn’t help it. He’d never been afraid of the dark before, and he usually even took comfort from it back home. But here in this unfamiliar environment he was unsettled. He missed his mum and dad painfully, too. Regardless of anything they had ever done to him, they were still his parents; they had loved him, and he still loved them, even if they didn’t know how to love him properly. He just laid there, staring up at the glowy stars and clutched his blanket to his chest, frozen in place. 

“Roger?” 

The little boy nearly jumped out of his skin before he could make out the fluffy outline of Brian peering over the rails of his bed. He wasn’t used to sharing a room, either.

“Roger, you’re crying. Are you okay?”

Roger hadn’t even realized he’d been whimpering pathetically. He stared at Brian with frightened, owlish eyes, still frozen with no clue how to respond.

“It’s okay, I’m gonna get Freddie” Brian cast him a small smile before hopping off his perch on the ladder. He was gone before Roger could protest, flipping on his bedside lamp to bathe the room in low light on his way out.

Roger inched into the far corner of the bed, curling up and making himself as small as possible. He was horrified that he’d kept Brian awake. Was he mad at him? Was he getting Freddie to punish him? Roger didn’t know anything about the way these people lived and he was bloody terrified. He hadn’t even known that the way his family lived was unusual until the social worker at the hospital had looked at him with that horrible-pitying expression when he’d told her about the violent punishment he had received as though it were a normal occurrence. He had stopped talking at the realization that his ignorance had just screwed his family, and he would be taken away. Tears spilled over his cheeks and he shoved his knuckles into his mouth to keep himself from wailing like a baby. He hated not knowing what to expect.

“Roger?” It was Freddie, and he peeked over the rails of the bed, smiling softly. “Hey there. You okay?”

Roger let out a low, panicked whine in response, pressing himself harder into the corner of the bed, the rails digging onto his skin. 

“It’s alright, Roger.” Freddie sighed as he climbed up the ladder. He had a small, brown teddy bear tucked under his arm. Brian followed close behind and the two of them settled carefully at the foot of the bed, as far from the youngest boy as the bunk would allow. Freddie settled the bear in his lap and fiddled with a frayed ribbon around its neck. “Are you scared?” he asked softly.

Roger studied the boys distrustfully, his piercing blue gaze boring into them. He nodded after a moment, feeling apprehensive. 

“You don’t have to be scared. You’re safe here.” The doubtful blue eyes prompted Freddie to continue. “We’ve been in your situation before. Mam and Miami adopted both of us a few years ago.”

Roger cocked his head in curiosity, lowering his fist away from his mouth. His uncontrolled whimpers had subsided due to the distraction. 

“Yeah, I came here when I was five. Brian was six. Both of our real parents are dead.”

Roger winced and cast his gaze to his lap, his cheeks heating in shame. How dare he cry for his parents when these boys sat before him as orphans? Or worse, what if his parents were dead and the social worker just lied to him? What if that was why he was really here?

“Shoot,” Freddie groaned, seeing that his revelation had upset the boy instead of comforting him. 

“Rog,” Brian cut in, preventing this conversation from becoming a train wreck. “What Freddie means is that we know how you feel and we’re here for you. It’ll be alright, okay? We’ve been here for a few years and we’re fine. You’ll be fine too.”

Those deep blue eyes flicked up to meet Brian’s and blinked away the tears. He visibly relaxed and Brian swore he could see the wheels of the boy’s mind turning as he processed his words. 

“What can we do to make you feel better?” Brian prompted, grinning in encouragement. 

The boy shrugged, and looked away, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. 

“Okay then, if you need anything just tell one of us.” Brian made to crawl toward the ladder, Freddie close behind. 

“Stay.”

They paused, not even sure if they had heard it. A high, whisper of a sound barely audible from the corner of the bed, where blue eyes shining with worry and fresh tears were turned back to them, the boy’s lower lip now wobbling with emotion. “Please?” He whimpered, confirming that the older boys had indeed heard him speak for the first time. 

As excited little kids, they both struggled to keep their reactions to a minimum, but they were bound and determined to make little Roger feel comfortable. “Of course, darling!” Freddie cooed crawling instead toward Roger. “Come on then, you can’t stay cooped up in the corner.” He made sure to keep his tone light as he beckoned the little boy to the middle of the bed as Brian watched in shock. 

Roger crawled to where Freddie directed him, a small, relieved smile on his sweet little face. He settled down in the middle, snuggled up against the pillows with his blankie still clutched up under his chin. Freddie joined him, and motioned for Brian to lay on the blond’s other side. 

“Erm, I’m just gonna go get the light.” Brian hummed, moving to the ladder once more. 

“No!” Roger whimpered, blue eyes flashing with panic as he reached a hand toward the curly-haired boy. 

“Okay, okay,” Brian eased himself under the covers beside Roger and smiled sweetly at he and Freddie as he did so. Truthfully, Brian hated sleeping with a light on, but he decided to get over it for the night, for Roger’s sake. 

“Hey, Rog,” Freddie cooed.

Roger hummed in response and glanced over at the older boy.

“This is Teddy,” the older boy held up the bear he’d brought with him. “He’s my favorite, and he makes me feel safe and comfy. I didn’t put him in the basket for you earlier, but I think you might need him more than me now. Would you like to have him?”

Roger studied Freddie’s face for a moment, not quite trusting that he was serious. Finding no deception in the warm, chocolate eyes, Roger nodded, his smile still gracing his features. Freddie handed the bear over and roger sat up, holding it carefully in his hands as he felt the matted fur and appreciated the sentimentality of it. It was not lost on him how significant Freddie’s kind gesture was.

The little blond boy then spread his little blue blanket over his own lap and lay the bear right in the middle. As Brian and Freddie looked on in confusion and awe, respectively, Roger carefully swaddled the bear like a baby, neatly tucking in the ends, and tucked the bundle under his chin as he lay back down. “He’s safe now.” he hummed, closing his eyes as he snuggled into the cozy bed between his new brothers.

“You’re safe now.” Freddie whispered to Roger, exchanging a glance with Brian as they settled down beside him, thankful that they were all still small enough to fit in one twin bed.


	4. That Leads us to Who Knows Where

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John comes home.

When you’re a kid, three weeks can make a world of difference. For Roger, three weeks had taken him from being in a constant state of anxiety to being in a warm, loving home. He’d gone from being nearly mute to barely ever shutting up, and he was absolutely loving his life with the Beach family. Roger was happy, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have his moments, too. Sometimes he got quiet because he felt vulnerable and anxious, and sometimes he acted out because he felt insecure. 

No one could blame him. In Roger’s seven years of life he’d been through a lot, and having come from a home where both his parents were ticking time-bombs, he never knew what to expect from anyone. 

It was only one more twist in his crazy little life when one day, three weeks after Roger’s arrival, Mam came home and gathered the boys, beaming from ear to ear. 

“Boys, I just got a call.” She gushed, kneeling on the ground and pulling Roger and Brian to her sides, Freddie completing the circle standing in front of her. “Another child needs a place to stay. I know it’s so soon after we got our sweet Roger,” she paused to pinch his cheek affectionately, “but his mother just passed away and he needs a family to give him love.”

“What about his daddy?” Roger peeped, his hand creeping toward his face to stick his thumb in his mouth, an anxious habit he still held on to.

“His daddy passed away a few years ago, darling. He needs all of our help.”

“What’s his name?” Freddie asked, his eyes locked on the carpet as he stood, deep in thought.

“His name is John Deacon. He’s five.”

“Where will he sleep?” Brian asked, shuffling around nervously beside Mam.

“Well, darling, I was going to ask if you wanted a brand new bed in Freddie’s room and John could have your bunk!”

Brian’s eyes widened and he looked around at his brothers. Freddie was smiling in encouragement but Roger looked stricken. “But Mam…” Brian was at a loss for words.

“You don’t have to, but I figured it would be better for you and Fred to share. You’re so close in age you know…” she trailed off, gently smoothing a hand over Brian’s unruly curls. It was true: they were only 10 months apart. 

“A brand new bed?”

“Yes, darling. Freddie’s could be on one side of the room, your’s on the other.”

“Can I keep my starry bed spread?”

“Of course!”

“Okay, deal!”

…

So then came John. 

That night a social worker came by: the same woman who was still on Roger’s case. She had immediately thought of the Beach family when John had been added to her case load, and she’d given Mam a call. She desperately plead for her to take this boy in; something in her heart told her he’d be a perfect fit.

They had a little meet and greet in the family home. Miami went out to buy Brian a new bed and John a new bedspread. Roger had hid behind the couch— he didn’t want to be taken away again— while Brian and Freddie introduced themselves to the new, new kid. John was shy, quiet, and wore a grumpy expression on his little face. He was a bit taller than Rog, but his face showed that he was younger. He didn’t seem thrilled by the situation whatsoever. But who could blame him?

This kid actually came with some toys and such from his old home. Freddie, being ever the ice breaker, strode right up to the box of belongings that had been set by the door and began to snoop.

“Hey!” The boy whined, scurrying over. “Those are mine!”

“What’s this?” Freddie ignored him and pulled out a jumbled lump of what looked to be a mangled portable phonograph player. Wires stuck out everywhere and the speaker dangled pathetically from the base. The turntable itself was a little askew as well. Freddie hadn’t even known it could come off! “What did you do to it?!” Freddie wailed. Brian and him had been begging Mam and Miami for one for months, and here one was in his hands, but totally unusable. He was devastated.

“Give it!” John snatched the mass of junk out of Fred’s hands and cradled it to his chest like it was an infant. “I was trying to see how it worked!” He lowered his voice and turned defensively away from the older boy. “I’m gonna put it back together, you’ll see.”

Freddie raised his eyebrows, unsure whether to be skeptical or impressed. “I have been dying for one of those and you’ve gone and just ruined yours?!”

“I’ll fix it.” John’s earnest gray-green gaze pierced Freddie’s soul and the latter quickly shrugged and backed down. 

“Alright.” Freddie raised his hands in surrender and retreated until he was sitting beside the couch. He could see Roger’s round, fearful eyes peeping out from behind it, and he hoped his proximity to the boy would make them both feel more at ease. 

John was not particularly nice to Freddie or Brian, for that matter. He was struggling to separate his grief for his mother and his old life from his fear of change, and all that frustration and fear made itself know in his interactions with the others. Change was scary, especially when it involves losing everything one has always known and being tossed headlong into a brand new life. There would certainly be a lot of adjusting for everyone in the household with such big changes from the past month. 

Despite the uncomfortable atmosphere and reluctant participation from John, the social worker eventually seemed satisfied that John would be alright and said her farewells and well-wishes to everyone. She even stooped to wave behind the couch where she had known Roger to be hiding all along, much to his chagrin. 

Once she was gone, Freddie and Brian decided to make an effort to make everything as normal as possible. Brian switched the radio on while Mam went to make dinner and Miami set Brian’s new bed up in Freddie’s room. The two older boys plopped down into their usual places by the radio stand, trying to act natural in order to attract John, who was sat with his arms and legs crossed, pouting and evidently guarding his box of things. The poor chap looked so uncomfortable and the others just wanted to make him feel better.

Roger continued observing him from his hiding place, taking mental note of how he had spoken to his brothers. From where Roger hid, watching John intently, he could tell the new boy was terrified, and he didn’t blame him one bit. He had been in his shoes less than a month ago, after all. Roger slowly began creeping toward the end of the couch and poked his head out, looking around cautiously. Freddie and Brian knew to avoid calling attention to Roger’s escapism habits, but John was none the wiser. He locked his glare on the emerging boy like sites to a target. 

“Oh, there’s more of you?” John sighed heavily, his eyes narrowing, and crossed his arms defensively over his chest. 

Roger’s eyes went impossibly larger and he froze like a deer in headlights.

“John!” Brian protested, moving to get up and intervene.

“No, no, Bri. Let Rog…” Freddie caught Brian’s elbow, watching in fascination as the little blond boy relaxed and cocked his head, looking the new kid up and down, seeming to be deep in thought. Then, Freddie and Brian’s jaws could have hit the floor when Roger continued to crawl out of his hiding place, directly toward John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a rollercoaster of a week. I'm a first year teacher and let me tell you: I am DYING. 
> 
> Comments would absolutely make my day <3


	5. Who Knows When

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John accidentally manages to unite them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally just wrote this and I didn't proofread at all. So sorry.

“Hi.”

After leaving his hiding place, Roger had crawled all the way over to where the newest addition to their home still sat, guarding his belongings. 

“I’m Roger,” the blond continued, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of excitement and nerves. “You’re gonna share a room with me. Wanna go see it?”

The other boy’s eyebrows rose in surprise as he considered the offer. The distrust and apprehension he felt was clear, but after a. moment, he rose to his feet.

Roger smiled sweetly and turned on the ball of his foot to scamper up the stairs. John followed a bit slower, and Brian and Freddie exchanged a cautious look, deciding without words to let the younger ones be for now. If Roger could handle it, then they. would let him handle it.

…

It surprised everyone how fast Roger was able to get John to open up. He seemed to make John feel more at ease and welcome in the home, and it certainly helped that he was honest about not being there for long. John felt less alienated by having someone else who was adjusting with him. They became fast friends and were soon laughing and goofing off together constantly. 

Freddie and Brian had a bit of a harder time relating to the five-year old, and he was cold and guarded toward them. They tried to stay out of his hair as much as possible, but it came off more as them not being interested in him, making him feel a bit left out, as Roger was already thick as thieves with both of them.

Roger was everyone’s best friend, they soon found out, and Freddie was everyone’s biggest supporter. Though John did feel left out when the three others were together, he actually formed quite a connection with each of them. Aside from Roger he quickly learned how to feel safe and confident with Freddie. The eldest boy was full of reassuring smiles and comforting comments, and it helped John feel more at ease. He also learned quiet camaraderie with Brian. They weren’t similar in any capacity, but they respected each other immensely. 

…

The boys all found common ground when John finally fixed his record player.

He was laid out on his belly in his and Roger’s room one Sunday afternoon, a screwdriver he’d nicked from the workbench in the garage clutched in his little hand as he gritted his teeth in determination. He racked his brains trying to remember how the pieces had been together when he’d taken it apart some months ago, back before his life did a 180. 

He had already put all the wires back where he was 90 percent sure they belonged and was now trying to get the turntable itself back in working condition. “Two pegs… they turn… a belt… Oh!” He thought aloud as he stretched a black band around two pegs. He remembered connecting one to a gear, which he figured was how the thing must turn. 

“Whatcha doin?” Roger plopped down onto the floor across from him, the record player looking slightly better than before between them.

“I’m gonna get this to work, Rog.” John fiddled with one of the pegs, pinching it between his fingers in order to turn it, and his smile grew as he watched the belt turn the other peg. “I almost got it!”

“Cool!” The other boy flopped down onto his belly as well so he could peer closer at the contraption. “What else do you gotta do?” His thumb snuck into his mouth as he studied the parts.

“I gotta put this thing on,” John held up the turn table, “Gotta put the arm back on, then the lid, and we should be set!”

“WOW! Maybe Miami will get us some records!”

“I have a few.” John smiled excitedly at the older boy, feeling ready to burst. “Then we can listen to whatever we want and not just whats on the radio!”

“Oooh what do you have?” Roger lowered his hand from his mouth and looked like he could burst as well, his eyes as large as saucers and his little body squirming in excitement. 

“Go look!” John gestured to the box in the corner that still contained some of his belongings he hadn’t found a place for yet.

Roger’s face fell then, and he eyed the younger boy cautiously. “I’m allowed?”

John looked up at him then, confusion written on his face. “Yeah, why wouldn’t you be allowed?” 

“You yelled at Freddie when he did.”

“Oh… well that was different!”

Roger studied the boys face, and after several moment decided he was being honest, so he turned and scampered over to the box that had been sparking his curiosity for the past several weeks. He shuffled through it, mostly finding just old toys like the odd spinning top, marbles, and stray jacks, but at the bottom found a small stack of 45s and two albums. Roger’s jaw dropped when he pulled out the album from the very bottom. 

“YOU HAVE ELVIS PRESLEY?!” Roger held the album in both hands and stared down at the black and white image of Elvis strumming his acoustic. The green and pink bold words jumped off the cover and the little boy felt his heart skip in excitement. “JohnJohnJohn Johnny you have to hurry and fix it! I wanna listen so bad! It’s brand-spanking-new!” He couldn’t contain himself any longer, he jumped up and down in excitement, squealing.

“Yep,” John hummed, casually. “My mummy bought it for me a few months ago when it came out. It’s good.”

“What’s all the racket in here for?” Freddie poked his head into the younger boys’ room, concern written all over his face. Brian hovered behind him, his hair that had been gelled for church earlier that day now sticking out at awkward angles as his curls fought for their natural form.

“FREDDIE! Johnny has ELVIS PRESLEY!!!” Roger quite literally bounced over to his older brothers, brandishing the album at them.

“Woah,” Freddie took it carefully from the child, holding it in his hands as Roger had moments ago, gazing at it in awe.

“Wow!” Brian gasped from over Fred’s shoulder. “How’s the player coming, John?”

“He’s nearly done!” Roger giggled, giddy with excitement. “Tutti frutti, oh rootie!” He sang in his high baby voice as he twirled around, falling onto his backside in his original place across from John. “Oh, I just can’t wait! You’re the best, Johnny.”

John lifted his head from where he’d been focused on fiddling with a screw, and his smile was the biggest any of them had ever seen from him. “Little Richard did that one first. It’s nearly done, Rog. All of you keep me company while I finish it up?”

Freddie smiled and gently set the record up on the nightstand so they could all see it, like an exhibit in a museum. He started humming a bit as he settled on the floor by the bed, Brian joining close beside him, before breaking into song much like Roger had. “Got a gal, named Sue!”

“She knows just what to do!” Brian joined, his own smile growing. 

“She rocks to the east, she rocks to the west, she’s the girl that I like best!” Roger was wiggling in place, flailing his arms about in pure excitement, and together the boys all dissolved into giggles, feeling completely at peace all together for the first time.”

“It’s done!” John shouted, leaping to his feet. He immediately scrambled for the power cord and demanded Freddie get the album out. 

Freddie gently held the sleek, black vinyl between his index finders and placed it on the turn table, and John did the honors of placing the needle on the edge. He fiddled with a dial and soon the first words of “Blue Suede Shoes” punched their way out of the speaker.

All four cheered and leapt to their feet, bouncing around to the rockabilly tones, Brian shredded on air guitar, Freddie writhed around pretending to dance like The King himself, and Roger and John hopped around to the beat, laughing and beaming with delight as they all sang along.

The dynamic had totally shifted in just an hour, and they were one unit. Brothers fully in synch with each other, and the noise they made together just singing along with each other was music to their ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have my mom's original copy of that Elvis album. It was perfect when I saw the date. on the back being 1956! And how sweet are these baby boys <3
> 
> Next chapter we jump into the main plot, there's a time skip, some angst, some fluffiness; I hope you’re ready.
> 
> Review to keep me going!


	6. But I’m Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek into the boys’ lives in December 1964.

December 1964

The boys met by one of the columns outside the school building every day after school so they could walk home together, but today it took a bit longer than usual for Roger to join Brian and John. Normally, he’d be buzzing out of his skin to plan what they would be doing after school or to tell them something exciting he’d learned about, but today he approached with his head down and his hands in the pockets of his jacket, Brian and John knew instantly that the boy was in a foul mood. As soon as he reached them, he glanced up and instantly turned in the direction of home without allowing any loitering time. 

They walked in silence for a few minutes and Roger’s frown deepened as the sky grew gray and he could feel the pricking of the air pressure dropping. It was going to rain, like Mother Nature was adding insult to injury. It became hard to breathe and Roger didn’t know if it was the barometric pressure or his anxiety. It was Brian, of course, who had to break the silence.

“What’s up, Rog?” he asked, casually.

“Don’t want to talk about it, Bri.”

“Did you get yourself in trouble again?”

Roger’s heart sank. Why did Brian have to guess? Was it that obvious? Offense bubbled in his chest but he pushed it down, trying to be realistic. He knew he got in trouble a lot, it was only reasonable that his brothers would be able to tell when it happened. “Maybe.” He replied, shortly.

“Maybe?” Brian raised his eyebrows, not interested in taking Roger’s shit as he came up to walk in stride with the middle brother. John lagged behind them a bit, though still listening intently.

“Okay, yes Bri, I got in trouble,” Roger snapped, quickening his pace in attempt to escape that judgmental gaze. It was futile: Brian’s legs were much longer and he easily adjusted his pace to keep up. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Brian huffed out a disappointed sigh, “Rog, you have got to stop this.”

“I know,”

“It doesn’t seem like you do.”

Roger felt like he could cry, “I don’t want—“

“You need to stop acting out for attention, Rog,” Brian interrupted in a condescending voice, “You’re not a little kid anymore. It’s not cute or endearing. Nobody feels bad for you anymore, you’re just obnoxious.”

Roger’s welling tears instantly evaporated and he felt a flash of heat, his blood starting to boil. His cheeks reddened as a fuse blew somewhere in his brain, fists tightening in his pockets and his chewed-up fingernails digging into his palms harshly. He wanted to scream that he didn’t do it for attention, that every time he acted out he always ended up so embarrassed he could puke, and that he was genuinely trying to be better but that he was just having a hard time. He knew he wasn’t a little kid, he even hated being doted on and treated like a baby and it stung that his older brother could suggest that he felt otherwise. It all just hurt so much, and the rage burning in his chest, just as it had earlier in the day: when he couldn’t answer a question when called on for the third time and was laughed at and heckled; kept him from voicing his thoughts properly. Instead, all he could force out was a stiff “Fuck you, Brian.”

“He’s right you know,” John cut in through his panting as he tried to keep up with the other two. 

“What the fuck, John?!” Roger’s defenses flew up as he stopped in his tracks, whirling to face his younger brother who nearly collided with him in surprise. He felt attacked, cornered like a feral animal caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. “I don’t do this shit on purpose!”

“But you can control yourself more than you do,” Brian sassed, his thin arms crossed defensively over his chest as Roger turned to face him. “Roger, we’ve had enough of this shit. You have to grow up, you’re hurting your future like this.”

“Fuck off, Brian, you’re not my bloody parent!” Roger shouted, feeling his self control crumbling quickly, his hands itching to hit something. They had come out of his pockets and were grasping at the air, opening and closing, renewing the sting of the tiny crescent-shaped cuts that were sure to show up on his palms.

“He’s right though, Rog, come on,” John cut in, though his voice was now much softer, his eyes sad. “You keep getting office referrals, detentions, suspensions; all this goes on your record, you know. No uni is going to want you.”

That felt like a slap in the face. Roger couldn’t take it anymore. With a cry of anguish he took off at a sprint toward home, trying desperately to outrun the rage that had built up inside him during the conversation he’d never even wanted to have in the first place. He hated that he felt tears begin to slip down his cheeks as he ran, but chose to blame them on the cold air whipping by. He hated the heat he felt in his face and neck brought on by rage; it made him feel almost feverish. He ran and ran until he reached the little brick house he’d called home since he was seven, cutting the 20-minute walk down to just five, and arriving as the first few drops of rain began to drip from the sky. He didn’t go to the front door. Instead he chose to jog around to a back door that led into a 2-car garage where his drum kit gleamed from the corner, welcoming him home like an old friend.

He knew he needed to do something with his energy, so with an angry scream he violently threw his backpack at the wall where it slid down to the floor. He then plopped down onto the stool behind the kit, swiped up his sticks, and proceeded to give that kit a run for its money, relishing in the sting he felt in his palms, feeling the beat in his chest. 

The satisfying thrum of the rain on the roof told him his brothers would be quite wet when they finally arrived home.

…

Roger didn’t care how many hours passed as he crashed away on his drums. He had switched on the radio that sat on the work bench to his favorite rock station and kept himself busy and distracted by jamming along to all the hits. He was in the middle of testing his time-keeping to a new Elvis number when the garage door lifted and Miami’s blue Ford Anglia pulled in. 

The lawyer wasted no time killing the engine and shutting the garage door against the driving rain. “Son,” he greeted, as he rounded the bonnet of the car. 

Roger ignored him.

“Roger.”

Still no response, he just kept playing.

“Roger Taylor! Look at me when I am speaking to you!” Miami rarely shouted at Roger, but then again Roger was rarely so disrespectful.

“WHAT?” the drummer slammed both his sticks down onto the rim of his snare, producing an awful disjointed clacking sound and smashing his finger in the process. His face grew hot with anger and frustration as he finally looked at Miami, his chest heaving.

Miami raised his eyebrows incredulously. “Would you like to try that again, Roger?” the lawyer’s tone was calm and level, gently guiding the unruly teenager in the right direction, a little nudge toward a second chance. It was a trick they had learned in family therapy.

Roger closed his eyes and took three slow, deep breaths, willing his heart rate to slow and his blood to cool. After a moment he blinked his eyes open and released the tension from his shoulders before straightening up and nodding to the man before him. “Hello, Miami,” he hummed, shame for his initial response coloring his cheeks.

“Hello, son. Rough day?”

Roger just nodded, unwilling to invite the subject to be expanded upon. 

“Hm. We’ll talk with Mam at dinner then?”

“Actually,” Roger began, his voice quiet and nervous. “I was hoping we could all talk before? I don’t really want Bri and John to be there.”

“Okay, we’ll make that work. Just come get us when you’re ready.”

“Yes sir.” 

“Alright.” Miami turned toward the door into the house, but stopped when he noticed Roger’s backpack still crumpled on the floor. “I’ll put this inside for you.” 

“Thanks.” Roger rolled his eyes knowing Miami had his back turned and impatiently tapped on his hi hat. He waited until the door was closed before returning to his vigorous drumming. He needed to let off a little more steam before talking about his day.


	7. Strong Enough to Carry Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie comes home and comforts Roger.

“Darlings, I’m home!” A grand shout sounded as the front door of the Beach residence flung open and then slammed shut, but not before letting in a rush of frigid air that swirled into the living room and mussed the towhead-blond locks of the boy spread out on the couch. The pouring rain had turned to snow as the sun had gone down and it was much colder out than it had been when the younger boys had come home. 

Cornflower-blue eyes turned to the door in mock annoyance at the older boy’s disturbing entrance, but the smile that spread across his face gave his true feelings away. “Fred! Close the damn door, its bloody freezing” Roger shouted, dog-earing his place in the worn copy of 1984 by George Orwell that he was reading before abandoning it on the couch and jumping to his feet to hug his older brother. “Glad you’re home” he cooed as he buried his face in Freddie’s shoulder. 

Roger was still a head shorter than all his brothers, even John had him beat, and Roger was often teased for this by his brothers and friends alike. He even had the nickname ‘titch’ among school friends. Whenever he whined about it to Mam she would just smile fondly and tell him he was just a late bloomer; he just hadn’t hit his last growth spurt yet.

“Tough day?” Freddie asked, parroting Miami’s words from earlier and enveloping his little brother in his arms, bringing a hand up to pat the blond head. He had always loved Roger’s size, even though he wasn’t much bigger, himself. 

Roger nodded against his shoulder as the tension dissipated from his muscles. He’d been having a hard time emotionally this school year, and Freddie hated to think it was because he was away more often. Freddie had started pursuing a degree in graphic design and had started commuting to Ealing college from their home in Feltham, and often had shifts as a luggage sorter at Heathrow to pay for it. While Freddie moved on to higher education, his brothers were still in grammar school. John was in year 9, Roger in year 11, and Brian in his final year: 13. This particular night Freddie had had a shift at Heathrow after class, and it was long past dinnertime when he arrived home.

Throughout their childhood Freddie and Roger had grown codependent and understood each other better than anyone else ever did. They each provided a best friend, a safe haven for the other, and now that Freddie was away from home more often than not, Roger found himself struggling to navigate the confusing and emotional waters of his teenage years. Due to his past, the blond struggled with emotions and it had always been Freddie to defend him, Freddie to ground him, and Freddie to help him deal with his emotions whenever he lost control. Roger was intellectually extremely bright, loved to learn, and did well on exams despite his struggle to pay attention in classes. He’d been getting in trouble more and more as of late, which worried Freddie astronomically, and the older boy had tried to get Brian to take his place as Roger’s protector, but Brian was juggling his own mental health along with impending A-level exams and had allowed Roger to slip through the cracks. Freddie found a bit of solace in the fact that Roger still had John, and with the two of them being the ‘little brothers’ of the family they could always trust in each other to lend a listening ear.

“Talk to me,” Freddie sighed, guiding them to sit back on the couch where Roger had been reading.

“I— uh,” uncertain blue eyes searched the floor for the courage to admit his wrongdoings. “I sorta got frustrated and threw my textbook.”

“At?”

“the floor.”

Freddie let out a breath of relief. “And?”

“Slammed my head down on the desk. I got sent to the headmaster. Had to bring home a letter for Mam to sign.”

“Oh, well, at least nothing broke this time.” Freddie regretted his teasing words instantly when he noticed ashamed tears threatening to spill from those bright blue eyes. “Oh, come on now, I’m only poking fun.” He threw his arm around Roger’s shoulders once more and ruffled his hair. “You’re alright Rog, it happens. Was she mad?” 

The blond shook his head as he snuggled against Freddie’s chest and replied in a muffled voice. “She was disappointed though.”

“Well…” Freddie trailed off with nothing more to say. Roger’s behavior had been an ongoing struggle all his life and if Freddie were being honest, he was not at all surprised and was a bit disappointed in him, too. “Such is life, Rog. Gotta deal with the consequences. Now, where the hell are our brothers?”

Roger bit his lip and pulled away from Freddie, his eyes locked on the floor again.

“Rog?”

“Well, Brian and I got in a fight after school.”

“Oh.”

“And John took his side.”

“Oh.” So it had been a really tough day. That’s why Rog had been waiting for him by the door like a loyal puppy. “About?”

“How much I’ve been getting in trouble.”

“Oh.” Freddie made a mental note to kick Brian and John’s asses later. Fighting with Roger never helped and in fact usually made things worse. They knew better. Freddie was at a loss for words as concern for his little brother consumed his thoughts and he subconsciously tightened his grip on Roger’s shoulder. It wasn’t that Freddie always took Roger’s side. He knew as well as anyone that the stubborn blond could be in the wrong, and he didn’t put him on a pedestal just because they were close, but he knew how to deal with him— how to deescalate him and help him see a bit of reason. Brian and John loved Roger just as much as Freddie did but Brian only knew how to poke the sleeping bear and John only knew how to add fuel to the fire. 

“Anyway,” Roger began suddenly, sitting up and conjuring a bright smile to replace the pout. “How was your day, Freds?”

“Oh, love, it was atrocious!” Roger’s smile faltered at Freddie’s words so the latter continued with a grand eye roll, showing he was only exaggerating. “I had to sit through 90 bloody minutes of art history and then had an 8 hour shift at the airport.” 

Roger laughed and shoved Freddie before leaping to his feet. “Whatever, Fred. I’m gonna go practice for a bit.”

Freddie’s brow furrowed as he glanced up at the retreating boy. “It’s bloody freezing out there, darling. My Fender is upstairs in the room, you could borrow it instead!”

“That would require me going in there with him.” Roger crinkled his nose in mock disgust as he referred to Freddie and Brian’s shared room. “Besides, guitar just isn’t the same and I think I need to let off a little more steam.”

“More?” Freddie inquired, raising his eyebrow.

It was a well known and accepted fact in the family that Roger used drumming as an outlet and that it was best to just let him go at it as long as he needed. The boy often had blistered and bleeding hands as a result. Roger held up freshly bandaged hands and smirked at him, evidently proud of the evidence of his hard work. “Yeah, I had a session for a few hours right after school. Just started reading after dinner instead cause I was tired, but I think I’m catching my second wind.”

“Okay, don’t be too obnoxious and don’t go past 10 pm!” Freddie called as he watched his little brother jog toward the garage.

“Yeah, yeah” the drummer was halfway out the side door of the house before Freddie even finished his sentence.

Freddie waited until he heard the familiar taping of the hi-hat before he started heading up the stairs, his exhaustion starting to get the best of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all I am exhausted. Teaching is hard. Just know your comments mean the world to me.


	8. He Ain’t Heavy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie talks with Brian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one for tonight, loves. Some more background information. This is the last before the real drama sets in. Let me know what you think <3

Freddie hadn’t been planning on dealing with more of his brothers’ drama tonight, though he didn’t know why he hadn’t expected it: drama-free days were next to nonexistent in this household. He didn’t have to try to fix all their problems, but he cared too much to turn a blind eye. Freddie loved them all so much, and though he wasn’t much for being a good influence in responsibility, he certainly took peacekeeping very seriously. 

Freddie’s mind raced with concern for Roger as he thought of how he could broach the subject with the other two. Due to coming from an unstable household Roger hadn’t been taught proper coping skills until his habits had already been formed. It angered Freddie to think that even after the Beach’s had taken Roger in it still took another 3 years to get the boy into counseling. From ages 7 to 10 the Beach’s had treated Roger’s outbursts as normal temper tantrums and it had never occurred to them until he turned ten and would still throw and break things and scream whenever he was frustrated for them to realize something wasn’t right with him. Eventually, Roger would be diagnosed with Minimal Brain Dysfunction (which would later be known as ADHD), but nothing was ever really done for him despite it. It was the only thing Freddie resented Mam and Miami for, but he had to admit they were just doing the best they could. No one could be perfect.

Shivers ran up Freddie’s spine as he recalled the violence that tiny little Roger used to display during his tantrums. Full out rages were a rare occurrence nowadays, but small bouts of violence were usually how Roger coped with big emotions even at 15. Freddie remembered clearly the first time he saw the small seven-year-old kick a hole in the wall in a fit of rage. He remembered being huddled with Brian and John at the top of the stairs, watching the scene unfold in the living room as Roger shouted and cursed like a sailor as he rampaged, kicking and hitting every inanimate object in sight. But the true spectacle hadn’t happened until after he’d kicked so hard he put the hole in the wall. After that Roger had become a sort of panicky Tasmanian devil, sobbing desperately as he twisted and twirled away from Mam and Miami’s grasps, trying so hard to escape the punishment he wholeheartedly believed was coming. It was only when Miami caught him and held the hyperventilating child to his chest in a last ditch effort to contain him that he’d finally calmed down. It had honestly been terrifying, and the other boys had walked on eggshells around Roger for several weeks after, afraid to set him off until they eventually realized he would never, ever hurt them.

After his diagnosis and as he continued to grow, mature, and learn new coping mechanisms Roger’s behavior slowly improved, but he was often sent into regression whenever something upsetting happened. Like right now, he was regressing because he subconsciously missed Freddie. Not to mention, school can be tough when you’re fifteen. Seeing his brother regress made Freddie feel guilty for being gone so long every day, but he knew he couldn’t sacrifice his life journey just because his brother couldn’t handle it, so on he went to university, and on he went to work to pay for university. 

Freddie trudged onto the second floor landing and drug his feet all the way to his room, dramatically throwing open the door and collapsing onto his unkempt bed. Brian let out an annoyed huff at the distraction from where he sat at his desk, textbooks and note pages littering the expanse of both his desk and Freddie’s.

“Well hello to you too, darling.” Freddie sassed before pushing himself up into a sitting position. “Care to explain the foul moods that seem to be running rampant in this house tonight?”

Brian’s hazel eyes snapped to Freddie’s, narrowing in suspicion. “Why, what did Roger tell you?” 

“He only told me about what he did to get in trouble and that you and Deaky ganged up on him afterward. Not much else.”

“We didn’t gang up on him! We just want him to act his age!”

“Bri, he’s fifteen.” Freddie reasoned, softly.

“Yes, and Deaky is thirteen and doesn’t throw tantrums. You and I didn’t either. It’s not normal!”

“Since when did you care about normal? Brian he’s not normal, in fact, none of us are normal in the slightest.” Freddie sighed heavily, cutting off his own rant and pinching his brow in exasperation. “Look, just explain to me what you said to him so I know how to handle this.”

“Fred, you weren’t there you don’t need to get involved.”

“Of course I do, Brian! I could see in his eyes he’s struggling right now and I don’t know what to do. You and Deaky ganging up on him isn’t helping! I know how to handle him, so just let me do it!”

“It’s not our bloody fault he can’t handle the slightest inconveniences!” Brian erupted, his eyes alight with the anger that Freddie found unjust. “Look, Fred, we only want what’s best for him and we both think he can control himself a bit more. We voiced our opinion. He reacted badly. That’s all. We weren’t mean. You baby him way too much, you and Mam both. You’re not doing him any favors. You’re enabling him.”

Freddie frowned as he processed Brian’s words, and sighed as he cast his gaze up to the ceiling as though begging for strength from God. “I don’t know what to do with him, Bri.”

“So we’re on the same page.”

“Well, maybe I do baby him, but I do think you should be more gentle next time. Don’t ambush him like that, you know he feels cornered easily.”

Brian just winced as the sound of a cymbal crash made it all the way up from the garage. 

“He’ll be alright. He always is, but I’m serious. You’re his big brother, Bri, you have to learn how to deal with him properly.”

“That’s not fair, Fred. I don’t have time to coddle him like you did.” 

“Bri, love, there is an enormous difference between coddling him and just being kind to him.” Freddie glared over at the other boy, his eyebrow raised as if daring the guitarist to test him. 

Brian let out a heavy sigh and refocused his own gaze on his textbook, effectively signaling the end of his already minuscule willingness to talk.

It wasn’t exactly how Freddie wanted the conversation to go, but he had made a bit of progress, he supposed. It would do for tonight, so long as tomorrow Brian and John could act as though the argument earlier had never happened. 

Freddie sunk against the pillows on his bed and let the steady, muffled sound of Roger’s bass drum from far away lull him into a haze. He was exhausted, and knew he had to get up and properly get ready for bed, but the thought of moving was less than appealing. He’d had a long enough day with class and work, and the younger boys’ drama only made it longer. It would be okay though, it always was. Tomorrow they would act as though a disagreement had never happened and they would never mention the incident again. That was just their dynamic, and it worked. 

As he lay there, letting the beat consume him a melody started to accompany it, and he relaxed, hoping and praying to whoever was listening that tomorrow would be better.


	9. He's My Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: car accident, death, injury, hospital
> 
> Yes, I definitely used some popular doctor names. And no, no one noticed the harry potter reference from a previous chapter so lets see if someone can pick it up this time lol

Freddie felt ill.

Getting called to take a phone call at school is never a good sign. Not in primary school, not in upper form, and no, definitely not in uni. Freddie could remember one time in second year a girl had been summoned to take a call from the office, and when she didn’t return for a week all her classmates found out her house had burnt down. Another time in fifth year a boy had been called at school and told that his cousin had been killed. No, it was never a good thing. 

Miami had received the call at his office in London first, and had immediately called to track Freddie down at Ealing. He picked him up and they set off on the M25, speeding along as fast as they could toward where the rest of their family had been taken by ambulance.

The car ride with Miami was painfully silent. He had already snapped at Freddie that he didn’t know what had happened and if he knew he would have told him. The tension was palpable, but they both understood that the other was feeling the stress of being told all their family members were in hospital.

When they arrived, they immediately knew it was bad. A pair of police officers wearing grim expressions met them at the desk and ushered them into a conference room. One of the officers was a tired-looking middle aged white man, and the other was a young, dark woman with sad eyes. 

“Afternoon, sirs.” The man gruffed in a weak greeting, opening up his notebook and running a beefy hand down his face in exhaustion. “Erm, first of all, I wish I could tell you how they’re doing but I simply do not know. But we can tell you what happened.”

“Okay?” Miami prompted impatiently. “Who exactly was involved?”

“Well, I have the names Brian, John, Roger, and Marianne.”

“Yes, those are my adopted sons and wife.”

“Alright. They were involved in a car accident. Another driver blew through a stop sign, T-boned them on the driver’s side going about 110 kilometers per hour.”

Freddie gasped and his hand flew up to stifle it, tears of horror welling in his eyes as Miami sat, steely-faced.

The officer continued, reading his notes from the scene. “The other driver was distracted, and the incident is being investigated by the crime scene unit. My partner and I were the first responders on the scene.” He gestured to his young partner, and she frowned sympathetically as the spotlight was turned to her. 

“When we arrived, two of the boys were conscious,” she spoke up, her voice low in concern for the family. “That isn’t necessarily indicative of their current conditions, but once the fire department arrived we were able to free everyone from the vehicles. The third boy, Brian, I believe, was conscious by the time ambulances arrived…” she trailed off, glancing back at her partner.

The man took over once more, a deep frown set on his face. “I’m sorry, Mr. Beach. Your wife didn’t make it.”

Miami stiffened and Freddie felt his heart sink. Mam was dead?

“She was pronounced dead on the scene. Take comfort in that she didn’t suffer.”

Miami’s jaw was tight, his eyes far away, and Freddie looked between he and the officers in disbelief. “And my brothers? They were all awake?” he whimpered, timidly.

“Yes, sir.” the woman sighed. “They each had quite a few injuries, but they were responsive. The doctors will be in shortly to update you on them. I’m sorry, sir, I wish we could give you more information. And I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, dear.” Freddie whimpered, remembering the manners Mam had so surely ingrained in all of her adopted children.

The officers both stood and ducked out of the room, casting sympathetic smiles as they left. Freddie sighed heavily and dragged the back of his sleeve over his eyes to fight back his tears. His heart was heavy and his stomach was in knots. How could Mam be dead? How could he and his brothers be so unlucky to lose their adoptive mother? And poor Miami: the adoptions of the boys had been all Mam. He had gone along with it all for her, and though he truly loved the boys as though they were his own, he hadn’t signed up to raise them alone. Roger and John still had several years left as dependents, and there was nothing easy about caring for either of them. Not to mention Miami had lost his wife. His love.

Miami had not moved since the officers left, but as a knock sounded on the door and it opened to reveal three doctors, he jumped and sniffled, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. Freddie realized he’d been silently crying.

The doctors looked sympathetic, but otherwise Freddie couldn’t read their expressions. Two women, one with dark hair and one with straight blonde hair pulled into a ponytail; and a man with light blond hair. Each of them had kind eyes, at least. It was a small yet valuable comfort.

The shorter woman with dark hair began, sticking her hand out for a shake. “Hello, Mr. Beach, and…?” 

“Freddie.” he mumbled, sticking out his hand. “The boys’ brother.”

“Ah, okay. I’m Dr. Grey and this is Doctors Stephens and Cullen.” she gestured to the woman and man, respectively. “We’re the emergency residents on their cases. Brian first?”

“Yes,” Dr. Cullen stepped forward. “Brian was sitting in the passenger seat opposite the impact area. He lucked out with only a minor concussion. He lost consciousness on the scene but has been fully conscious ever since and has been cleared by a neurologist to go home. Of course he has some cuts and bruises as well. He got two stitches in his forehead, but that will heal up just fine. He’ll have to take it easy for a few days but otherwise he’ll be fully recovered before the month’s end.”

“Right,” Dr. Stephens stepped forward, reading from a chart she held. “John was in the back passenger side his arm went through the window as the car rolled down an embankment.”

Freddie’s heart sunk. The car had rolled? Oh his poor boys...

“He received 19 stitches under sedation. He’ll have a sling and orders for rest as well, but he should recover quite quickly. The stitches will be in for about two weeks.” She put on a reassuring smile. “He’s relatively fine and very very lucky.”

“Yes, now on to Roger.” Dr. Grey began, stepping forward once again. “First of all, I just want you to know that Roger is awake and responsive, so don’t panic, but he’s not out of the woods quite yet.”

Freddie gulped and glanced toward Miami, but the lawyer’s eyes were glued on a spot on the wall just behind Dr. Grey.

“Unfortunately, he was not wearing his seatbelt and he was on the side of the impact in the back seat. Several ribs on his right side are broken, he has a damaged disk at T6 in his back, and he has some signs of internal bleeding, but we’re monitoring it closely. We want to avoid surgery if we can: A lot of times bleeding resolves itself if it doesn’t get out of control.”

“Do they know about Mam— ahem— Marianne?” Miami coughed out. He sounded heartbroken. 

“No,” Dr. Grey sighed. “We wanted to give you the news first so you could decide how to tell them. We can, of course—“

“No, no. That’s alright. They should hear it from us.” Miami sighed. He finally slumped in his chair running a hand down his face. “Thank you, Doctors.”

“Can we see them?” Freddie piped up, his tears had dried as concern for his brothers consumed his thoughts. 

“Yes, of course.” Dr. Grey smiled. “Come with me.”

“Fred, you go.” Miami sighed, leaning back in his seat. “I need a minute.”

Freddie frowned and patted Miami’s shoulder as he passed him to follow the doctor. He supposed he would have to break the news to the boys alone, then. Lovely. 

Dr. Grey led Freddie down the hallway of the emergency department, through a set of doors and into a block of rooms with propped open doors. “Brian and John are in this room. They can both go home today. When you’re done talking with them someone can take you up to Roger in the ICU.”

“Thank you, Dr. Grey.” Freddie shakily whispered. It was all he could muster now that his broken heart was pounding in his chest in anticipation of what he would have to tell his little brothers.


	10. So On We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie visits Brian and John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!! Here's a chapter to celebrate my favorite holiday. 
> 
> As for the last chapter, many recognized Dr Grey. Evidently I spelled Dr Stevens wrong but she was from that show as well. Dr Cullen was from Twilight, and the Harry Potter reference has been Miami's car. Its the flying car from the Chamber of Secrets! Thank you for all the lovely comments on the last chapter, it was wonderful to see how many people are enjoying my creation <3
> 
> Enjoy!

Freddie pushed the door open and glanced around, taking in the energy of the room.

Pure anxiety.

Brian was in the bed closest to the door, a large bandage taking up most of his forehead. He looked rather sorry for himself and glanced up forlornly at Freddie as he entered. 

John lay in the second bed, his arm heavily bandaged and laying limp over his midriff. His eyes were incredibly alert when they met Fred’s, but Freddie knew him well enough to see the overwhelming sadness behind the anxiety.

“Oh, darlings…” Freddie cooed, standing frozen just past the doorway. It softly clicked closed behind him, and the bustling sounds of the hospital were instantly silenced. They were alone with each other, tension thick in the air. “I’m so glad you’re both alright.” His voice shook. There was no way he could keep his composure.

“Freddie—” John breathed, his breath catching in his throat as he sat up. “It was so scary Fred.” 

The eldest immediately strode past Brian and wrapped his youngest brother in a strong hug, minding his arm as best he could. “You’re alright, darling. You’re alright.” He wasn’t sure if he believed that, himself, but he had to try.

“Where are Mam and Rog?” Brian asked, his voice trembling. “Why are they not in here with us? Our nurses keep saying they don’t know.”

Freddie and John broke apart and Freddie perched on the edge of the latter’s bed. “Listen, boys, erm…”

“Spit it out, Fred!”

Freddie squeezed his eyes shut, simply unable to watch as the news hit his little brothers. He couldn’t look into their eyes and see that pain. He couldn’t handle it. 

“Mam didn’t make it.”

The room felt like a vacuum, as though all the oxygen had disappeared.

“No…” Brian hissed after a beat of dead silence. “No, no, it can’t be true!”

“She’s dead, Bri.” Freddie moaned, his tears beginning to flow again. He peeked his eyes open and was surprised to see anger glaring back at him from his tallest brother’s eyes. 

“She can’t be!” He shouted, kicking the footboard of the bed like a protesting child. It was something Freddie would expect from Roger, but not from Brian, and he was quite taken aback. 

“Bri…” he whimpered, but stopped when he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to face John. He left Brian to his grief and cocked his head signaling to John that he was listening. 

John’s teary eyes blinked up at his big brother in fear. “F-Fred. where… where is Roggie?” In that moment, looking into his terrified eyes, Freddie was reminded how young John really was. It was an easy thing to forget with how mature he could be, but sitting here in this hospital room with a life-altering situation hanging over their heads, Freddie saw the little boy that was sitting there in front of him.

“He’s in the ICU, darling.”

“Is he gonna be okay?” Tears began flowing faster as John started to panic. Mam was dead, Roger was in intensive care, how could this be happening?

“I don't know, Deaky. I really don’t know.”

“Fuck!” Brian shouted, throwing his good arm over his eyes as he dissolved into heart-wrenching sobs. 

Freddie tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it was next to impossible. This was all starting to be too much for him. Just seeing his family hurt made his heart cry, and he wanted so badly to fix everything. He wanted to scoop his brothers into his arms and tell them it would all be okay, and mean it. He wanted to comfort Miami, he didn't know how, but he wanted to. And most of all he wanted Mam back with every fiber of his being. This wasn’t bloody fair!

A tap on the door and the sound of it opening ripped Freddie from his reverie. A very tired, very downtrodden-looking Miami stepped in and blinked at the scene before him. “I take it you told them?” He sighed, a small frown pulling at the corner of his mouth. 

Freddie just nodded before bowing his head and placing a hand over his eyes. He needed a moment. 

“How about you go up to the ICU and see Rog, Fred? I’m gonna get these guys signed out and ready to go home.”

“Oh… okay.” Freddie stood slowly, and patted Brian’s knee on his way toward the door. “I’ll be back in a bit, I promise.”

“Tell him as well, yeah?” 

“Okay.” Freddie’s voice broke on the word, and he bowed his head, scurrying away to avoid any further interaction. He didn't have the heart to tell Miami he just couldn’t tell Rog. He’d have to buck up and do it, even though looking into those blue eyes as he delivered the worst news of his favorite little brother’s life was going to kill him.   
Freddie stepped out into the hallway and let the door softly click closed behind him. He leaned heavily against the wall, taking a moment to himself to gather his composure. His head was pounding from the stress of the past hour and with the anticipation of the hardships to come. This was going to be the biggest challenge he had ever faced, even more so than when his biological parents died. He had been just a kid then, the adults handled everything, but now he was the eldest brother, a legal adult who would have to step up. Miami would be swamped with grief and all the legal stuff that comes after a death in the family, and he would also have to keep up with his work, as he was the sole breadwinner for the three growing, school-aged boys, and still supported Freddie as well. Freddie knew he wouldn’t have a choice but to do everything in his power to ease their burden for Miami. 

No doubt, it was going to be tough. 

After several minutes of just gathering his thoughts and breathing, Freddie finally pushed himself off the wall and trudged over to the nurses’ station. A sweet, young looking nurse with sleek brown hair tied into french braids led him up the flight of stairs to the Intensive Care Unit. She stopped outside of one of the rooms. It had a lot of windows, but the blinds were pulled shut, and no light came from within. 

“Roger is in here,” she chirped, her eyes alight with care. “I have to warn you it can be quite unsettling to see a loved one in the ICU, but just remember we’re keeping a close eye on him and we’ll do everything in our power for him. He got sick earlier because of the pain medication and he’s in quite a foul mood, but we’re trying to keep him comfortable. Seeing a familiar face could help immensely.”

Freddie nodded, glancing nervously at the entrance to the room, but he longed to see his little brother and assure himself that he had indeed survived. 

The nurse opened the door for him and ushered him in before she parted by reminding him where the light switch and the call buttons were. She was gone, and the door clicked softly closed signaling that the occupants of the room were now alone.


	11. His Welfare is My Concern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie goes to see Roger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter.
> 
> I’ll be honest y’all I’ve been struggling recently. I’m a first year teacher and my district had to go fully remote and I’m struggling to find joy in this job that I’ve spent the past 4 years of my life working for. I LOVE teaching but its awful without the kids here to make it exciting. I always said I didn’t want a desk job but now I have a freaking desk job. I hate to be dramatic, but I think I’m legitimately depressed, and it sucks.
> 
> Anyway, writing is my escapism, so enjoy the fruits of my struggles.

Freddie knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant seeing his little brother in the ICU, but what he wasn’t prepared for was how frightening it was going to be. He stepped into the room expecting it to be just like downstairs where his other brothers were, only with more medical supervision, but it was so much more intense.

The room was much more open with more windows to the hallway for staff to be able to monitor patients, though the blinds were drawn in Roger’s room. The lights were off, but light leaked in from the hallway through the cracks in the blinds and illuminated the room well enough for Freddie to see rather clearly. Sounds faded into white noise in the room with the steady whoosh of air from an oxygen tank and the whirring and clicking of various machines as they spat out strips of monitoring paper. Freddie was frightened to see a ventilator beside the bed, though it wasn’t turned on. It was more than clear that it was there in preparation for if the patient’s condition deteriorated. There were double the amount of machines as there were downstairs and an overwhelming amount of wires connecting them to the lump in the bed. Upon approach Freddie knew that lump could only be his brother. 

Roger was awake, albeit barely. His heavily lidded cornflower-blue eyes were glazed over as he stared off at the far wall, almost unseeing. He was draped in several blankets, all his limbs tucked in neatly, and surrounded by pillows supporting him on either side. A nasal cannula ran across his face and several other tubes and wires disappeared under the blankets. As his eyes drifted over to lock on Freddie, Roger looked impossibly small, like the frightened child from that first night with his new family, and Freddie was thrown back in time to feeling young and confused, with only one goal: to comfort. 

“Oh, darling…” Freddie’s breath faltered as he paused at Roger’s bedside, his hands fluttering inches above the blankets. He wanted to tuck him in, rub his arms, tousle his hair, but he feared hurting him. He gave up, settling instead to sink into the lone plastic chair beside the bed and lean toward the blond. “How are you feeling?”

A deep frown pulled at Roger’s lips but he remained silent.

“I know you’re scared, Rog, but I’m here, okay? Please can you say something? Anything.”

Roger’s frown deepened and he twitched his head for a barely recognizable shake. 

Freddie’s heart sunk. No, no, no he couldn't be going mute again! There were only a few instances throughout the past 8 years that Freddie remembered Roger going through periods of selective mutism, but whenever it occurred, communicating with the stubborn blond was like pulling teeth. 

The eldest brother sighed deeply and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Lovie, I need to tell you something,” he tried to search his brother’s eyes, but the younger boy cast them down on the stiff, white blanket, effectively cutting off any eye contact. “Roger, please.” 

Tears of frustration and protest welled up in Roger’s eyes in response, his face crumpling and reddening. 

“Okay, okay. You don’t have to talk, but this cannot wait. So I’ll go ahead with it.” He waited a moment, but of course nothing from Roger. “Darling, Mam didn't make it.” Freddie’s own voice cracked mid-sentence, and he couldn’t stall any longer. He reached out and found a shape resembling Roger’s wrist under the blanket, and gave a light squeeze. 

The blond’s expression appeared far away as though he were seeing some movie scene play behind his eyes, but Freddie was surprised when two curious azure orbs eventually traveled up to meet his gaze. He knew just from looking at him what he wanted to know.

“Bri and John are alright. A bit banged up, but they’re alright.”

Roger looked down again, his eyes now darting around but seeing nothing. Freddie knew the boy’s mind was racing, and the unsteady frown pulling at his lips communicated that he did not know what to think or feel. Freddie’s heart hurt watching his brother suffer and his soul ached as he remembered that this would not be an easy road for any of them. He didn't want Roger, Brian, John, or Miami to suffer like they were. He wanted to shield them from the pain, the hurt, the loss. 

The empty feeling of grief was creeping its way into Freddie’s chest as though telling Rog had been that last iota needed to tip the scales and make it real. Everyone knew now. It was real. 

Mam was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your supportive comments. I love to hear what you’re thinking and feeling as you read my work!


	12. No Burden is he to Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go home.

They were exhausted.

The car ride from the hospital had been rather uneventful if not a tad bit depressing for Freddie. He had watched the little light left in Brian’s eyes snuff out as the curly-headed guitarist had laid eyes on Miami’s Ford. Realization hit Freddie like a ton of bricks when he remembered that a car accident had been how Brian had lost his biological parents, and his heart shattered for him into impossibly smaller pieces. John had been rather aloof, but Freddie had learned over the past eight years that that was just how John dealt with his emotions.

The car was all too empty. They should have all been in the family car: Mam’s station wagon, with Mam and Miami Blissfully ignoring the boys from the front seats. Fred and Bri should have been in the back seat, debating which Hendrix song was the most technically brilliant. John and Rog, the babies of the family, should have been shunned to the very back, bickering loudly over leg room. 

Instead they were in Miami’s daily commuter, the Anglia, which had half the room but felt much, much too empty all the same. 

The two younger boys huddled in the back seat together, as though they could shield each other from the pain they were feeling. Freddie was at a loss of what to do to help them, all he knew to do was to switch on the radio to break up the silence a bit. It still hurt though, the awkward silence physically stabbed at the hearts of everyone in the vehicle.

When they got home hours past dinner time, Miami and Freddie ushered Brian and John carefully into the house and up to their rooms. Almost as soon as Brian was deposited onto his bed, Miami was shuffling away, a passive “shout if you need anything,” thrown over his shoulder as he escaped off to the master bedroom. 

Freddie made to steer John into the room the latter shared with Roger, but he paused, lingering in the doorway with his hand still resting at John’s good elbow. Something felt wrong about putting him in there all by himself. “Come on, darling,” Freddie decided then, turning on his heel and redirecting his youngest brother to his own bedroom. “None of us want to be alone right now.”

Brian poked his head up as his brothers inched into the room trying to remain silent to spare Brian’s aching brain, but the guitarist sighed in resignation and sat up wearily. “Alright. On with it. We need to talk, then, don’t we lads?”

“I suppose,” Freddie mumbled, watching like a protective hawk as John clambered up onto the foot of Freddie’s bed before the singer himself joined, leaning delicately on the pillows. “No clue where to start.”

Brian sighed heavily, dropping his gaze to the duvet draped over his lap. “I don’t know what to say.”  
They sat in stunned silence for a few moments, the air in the room heavy with sadness and tension. It was a foreign feeling. It didn’t feel right at all. It didn't feel like home. 

“Rog should be here.” John broke the silence, his voice rough and tired. 

“Yes,” Freddie agreed, “He should be.”

“I’m worried for him, Fred.”

“He’ll be alright, darling.” Freddie moved a pillow to his other side so he could lean over and stroke John’s auburn hair back off his forehead. “I told you I saw him. He’s alright.” 

“No he’s not, Fred. Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying!” Freddie straightened up and glanced between John and Brian, receiving only looks of doubt in return. “Look, he was awake, looking at me, breathing. He was fine when I saw him. We’re going to have him right back here with us in no time, okay?”

Brian’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Did he say anything to you?”

“What?”

“Did he say anything? Did he tell you about the accident? Hell, could he even speak at all?”

Freddie felt his heart sink down all the way into his gut as he observed the intensity of Brian’s glare. He knew he would have to tell them about Roger’s silence. He had only been trying to spare them the worry by withholding that little detail, but it clearly backfired. “Well, he was responding non-verbally to everything I was saying. I could see in his eyes that he was hearing me… I guess its just one of those times. Yeah?”

Brian and John both groaned dramatically, but there was an underlying tone of genuine concern as the two younger boys exchanged a knowing glance. They were all too familiar with Roger’s selective mutism episodes. The episodes didn’t happen often and seemed to happen less and less as Roger grew older, but whenever something triggered his PTSD badly enough it was unsurprising when he did go mute for a few hours to a few days. Freddie could remember once when Roger had been paddled as punishment in primary school and he hadn’t spoken in school for the rest of the academic year. This time was no different, but that didn’t keep the other boys from dreading it. Dealing with a mute Roger was never fun, and they all just wanted him to let them in, let them support him and in turn, each other. 

Freddie shifted nervously as he glanced between his brothers, the gears in his mind turning. Something in Brian’s roll of questions had caught his attention. “But what would he have had to tell me, Bri? What did you mean?”

Brian’s hazel eyes snapped back to meet Freddie's for a fleeting second. “Oh, erm, just his perspective on what happened I suppose.”

Freddie furrowed his brow in confusion and concern as Brian looked away, focusing on the stitching of his bedspread. Something was up, the singer could tell. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah, Fred,” John cut in, his voice sharp, “we got hit by a ruddy car!”

The eldest brother grumbled in frustration and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not what I meant, Deaky. I meant did something happen that Roger specifically would need to tell me?”

“That’s a question for Rog, then, innit?” 

“Suppose it is.” The eldest felt a surge of frustration but it was immediately washed away with pity when he studied the youngest’s eyes. The sadness was still all too fresh, and Freddie could see he was not trying to he cheeky, he was just upset. “I’m sorry. It’s just a tad confusing. I wasn’t there.”

“No, you weren’t.” Brian hissed, pulling his bedspread over himself. “Be glad. I don’t remember the accident itself, if I’m being honest. But after… Well, it wasn’t pleasant.”

“None of it was pleasant, Bri, you didn’t miss out, neither of you.” John grimaced and his voice cracked from the strain.

Freddie wished he knew what was playing through John’s thoughts. He knew it was not something he wanted to experience, but he wanted to know so he could help. It was hard not knowing exactly what his brothers had experienced. How could he help them if he didn’t know what exactly they had been through? 

He shook his head to redirect his own thoughts and instead of pressing for more from the two, he rose to his feet, glancing between the others. “Alright darlings, I’m going to get cleaned up for bed. Anything either of the two of you need?” All they did was blink up at him blearily, the overwhelming sadness in their eyes telling Freddie all he needed to know; he could not get them what they needed. 

“Right, then. Just a water for each of you. I’ll be back."


	13. We'll Get There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAND here we are, all caught up with the chapters I already have completed. I have a plot planned out, of course, and most of the next chapter, but i'm pretty slow to write so please bear with me. 
> 
> I LOVED hearing some of your predictions and seeing you all get invested with this story. I hope you continue to enjoy it, as seeing my work be enjoyed brings a smile to my face every time. Please keep interacting with me! make predictions! tell me what you like and dislike! I love it!

The still silence of the house was cut through like a knife by the shrill screech of the telephone ringing through the halls. Freddie was startled awake by the sound and nearly jumped out of his skin, scrambling desperately out of bed as soon as he could identify what the sound was. He hurried to get up and answer before either of his brothers awoke. As he scurried down the stairs and into the kitchen he was surprised first, to see that Miami had beat him and was already picking up the phone, and second, that the kitchen clock read a quarter after three in the morning. 

Miami looked quite worse for wear as Freddie paced around him to perch on one of the dinner chairs. The lawyer’s eyes were bloodshot and his skin looked nearly gray. He hadn’t bothered throwing on a dressing gown or slippers and just stood barefoot and wearing faded flannel pajama pants and a threadbare white teeshirt. He spoke a clipped greeting into the phone with a strained voice, and his eyes, ever sad as they may have already been, gained an intense glint as he listened to whatever the caller was saying.

“Yes, speaking— Blimey, when? Agh, why didn’t they do it sooner?!— No, okay— Yes, I understand— I suppose I’ll be there soon then— Really? You’re going to tell me all that and then say I can’t come? Bollocks— I’ll be there first thing, seven AM then.” Miami slammed the phone down onto the receiver with an annoyed grunt before plopping down into the chair beside Freddie and immediately hanging his head in his hands.

“Who was that?” Freddie’s voice was hardly breaking a whisper. He felt choked by the rising anxiety as his mind immediately jumped to conclusions.

“Hospital,” Miami sighed, running a hand down his face and looking up at his son. “They’ve just taken Rog into emergency surgery. Said his blood pressure dropped dramatically so they need to open him up and see if they can stop any of the internal bleeding.” His voice broke on the last word and he turned his face away from Fred once more. 

“Bloody hell.” Freddie breathed, feeling his throat constrict. Suddenly he reckoned he understood why Roger could not force words out sometimes. “Well, we have to go be there for him!”

“Can’t. Visiting hours aren’t til seven and they said we wouldn’t be able to see him until then even if he comes out of surgery, no exceptions. They also mentioned he might not be out of surgery for a few hours anyway.”

“Poor Rog, he must be terrified.”

Miami nodded grimly. “He’s a trooper though, he’ll be alright. Someone ought to be with him for sure, but I have to make arrangements tomorrow—erm, today. I’ll go see him at seven but I can’t stay.”

“I don’t think Bri or John should be traveling much.” Freddie whimpered, “Of course I’ll go see Rog but who will take care of them? John’s got a sliced arm and Bri’s poor head…”

“I know, Fred. They’ll have to handle it, though.” 

Freddie just grimaced and rose to his feet once more. “Oh dear, I don’t think I can go back to sleep now, thinking about Rog and all.”

“Me either.”

“The radio and telly will both be dark this early in the morning, I suppose a record is in order? Just to keep the demons at bay…”

“Of course.”

Both men shuffled off to the living room and Freddie padded over to the phonograph cabinet, sifting through the albums until he found one he could bear to hear. Just some background noise, that was all. 

... 

The hours crawled until 6:30 rolled around and Miami was chomping at the bit to get going. Freddie was gentle as he woke Brian and John in turn to tell them that he would be at the hospital and they could reach him there if they needed anything. Soon, Freddie and Miami were dressed and once again seated in Miami’s car, nearly as anxious as they had been the day before. 

They had no idea what state Roger would be in when they reached him. They hadn’t received any updates since the 3:15 wake up call. Freddie prayed to whoever was listening that Roger would be alright. He could only picture Roger lying there in that awful, glaringly white bed with all those tubes and wires attached to him... Even though his little brother was having trouble communicating, Freddie knew he was terrified. 

They arrived two minutes past 7. Miami, already in a hurry bustled over to the front desk and immediately berated the desk nurse with questions. 

“Hold on, sir,” she cooed gently, obviously used to dealing with stressy people. She turned to a basket of clipboards and started thumbing through them. “Let me see if I have an update on him. You said last name ‘Taylor’?”

“Yes, Roger Taylor.”

“Alright,” she lifted one of the chart folders out of the file rack beside her. “Hmm. Okay I have a note that he was brought out of surgery about an hour ago. And his doctor… ah Dr. Grey, she’ll be waiting for you. We’ll let her know you’re here and she can update you on Roger.”

“Excuse me, Miss” Freddie stepped forward from his spot behind Miami, his heart pounding in his chest and threatening to burst out if she was about to turn them away without answering the most important question: “Please, can you tell us if he’s alive?”

The pretty desk nurse sighed and met Freddie’s eyes steadily. Her gaze boring into his. “Yes. He’s alive.”

Freddie felt all the stale air wash out of him as he processed her words. Yes, Roger was alright! His heart, though still heavy, felt a bit of weight lift off. At this point in time, all Freddie could hope for was any morsel of good news, and hearing that Roger had survived surgery felt like the best news he’d heard in his life.


	14. For I Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miami and Freddie go see Roger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi hi, I’m still here! 
> 
> Sorry for the wait, and I’m sorry the plot’s going so slow right now. I promise things will be revealed soon! Just not quite yet. Here’s a bit of angst to hold you over for now.

Roger hated change. He hated the unknown. And he hated when he lost control. He found himself facing all three of those dilemmas and more as he laid there in his hospital bed, facing a life that had been altered in only a moment. On top of it all he felt an odd sense of losing control rather than gaining it as the feeling slowly return to each of his appendages. Waking up from anesthetic was terrifying for him as he floated in the feeling nothingness. The feeling of no feeling. 

It took him several moments after waking to regain his hold on reality and to acknowledge all the painful truths. He had never felt so homesick in his life and all he wanted was to curl up in Mam’s arms and cry. Despite being two years older than John, Roger had always been the baby of the family and he was used to being coddled by everyone, used to always getting his way, and used to having company on demand. Alone in this strange hospital room he felt isolated, abandoned, ignored. And why did everything hurt so bad? Why was no one there?

Roger could see through a large window on one end of the room that it was dark outside with a tinge of purple glowing on the horizon. Sunrise or sunset, he did not know. He remembered the accident and most of Freddie’s grim, one-sided conversation about it, but he did not know where the time since had gone or where any of his siblings were. He could vaguely remember Freddie mentioning taking them home, but nothing felt entirely real to him. Had he dreamt it? All of it? He hoped so. 

A young, chipper looking nurse strode into wherever the hell he was and jolted him out of his thoughts with an obnoxiously cheery greeting. 

“Hello there, love!” She cooed as she descended on him. “You’re up just in time: Your family is already here to see you!”

Roger’s brow furrowed in confusion as he slowly processed her words. His family was back? He made to sit up and look around but his pronounced lack of bodily control combined with a painful twinge in his side told him not to, and he melted back into the plasticky mattress and stiff sheets.

“Oh,” the rather aloof nurse began, a giggle in her voice. “Silly me, you probably don’t remember. You had a major surgery, love. But you’re okay.” she trailed off as she fiddled with the monitors he was attached to. “How are you feeling?”

Roger squinted up at her, cocking his head as he wracked his brains for any semblance of a memory of needing surgery, only to come up blank. Major surgery? But he had been fine! He had no recollection of it, and that notion was quite unsettling. 

“Right. You must be the one who doesn’t talk.” Her tone dropped dramatically in a very obvious pout and she noticeably stepped farther from the bed. Evidently, she took personal offense at his silence. 

Roger opened his mouth to protest, he did talk, damn it! But much to his frustration a swell of anxiety in his chest kept any sound from escaping, and his own expression fell into a pout. He picked at a loose thread on the stiff knit blanket that covered him and watched as his hand flexed around an IV catheter nestled into one of the veins there, the tape tugging unpleasantly on the thin skin of the back of his hand. Feeling slowly returned to the area and soon he could feel exactly where the IV punctured his skin. It didn’t hurt though. Nothing really hurt except the twinge in his side. They must have given him something pretty strong before lifting the anesthesia. 

He tried to breathe and calm his anxiety as he ignored the nurse out of pure exhasperation, and he tried not to be nervous to see his family. They were his family, for God’s sake, so why did he feel so anxious?

Miami and Freddie suddenly crept in. Just Miami and Freddie. The two who hadn’t been in the car. 

They were both glancing at the nurse as though hoping for permission to enter. When she gave them a small smile in acknowledgement they relaxed and hurried to Roger’s bedside. 

Roger relaxed minimally in their presence. 

“Rog.” Freddie immediately pulled a plastic chair up to the bedside and scooped up his brother’s limp hand. “Hello, darling. How are you feeling?”

Roger blinked at Freddie, a small frown on his lips and a crease between his eye brows communicating that he was still feeling a bit fuzzy. 

“Roger, son.” Miami stepped forward. 

With a pang Roger realized this was the first time he’d seen Miami since the accident and he just wanted to sink into the bed and disappear. He felt overwhelming embarrassment and survivors guilt gripping at his heart. Did Miami hate him? Did he wish Roger had died and not Mam?

Miami hesitated, his expression pinched as he looked down at his injured son. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped, glancing at Freddie as if for approval. 

Freddie waved him off and leaned in toward his brother. “Do you know what’s going on, darling?”

Roger nodded and his eyes darted away, unable to stay locked with the older boy’s piercing gaze. 

“Roger.” Miami tried again, prompting Roger to look back to them. “I’m really glad you’re okay, son. Dr. Grey told us you might be here for a little while, though.”

Roger furrowed his eyebrows, his grimace twisting in distaste.

“I know. It sucks. You’ll be home eventually, though.” Miami sighed and patted Roger’s shin, casting his gaze to the floor as he chewed his cheek nervously. “Well, I just wanted to pop in. I’ll come up later today as well, but I have a lot to do today. Fred’s going to be here until I pick him up later.”

Roger’s blue eyes met Miami’s for a moment, communicating his acceptance. Acceptance of Miami’s rejection. Of course he wouldn’t want to stick around with the constant reminder of the fact that their family was shattered. 

“Alright, boys…” Miami nodded to each of them before turning on his heel and hurrying from the room. 

Roger watched Miami flee and watched Freddie’s expression crumple as the older boy processed their father’s abrupt departure. Roger, however, couldn’t quite process it himself. He felt a bit numb if he were being honest.

Freddie returned his gaze to Roger after a moment of wallowing in Miami’s prominent absence. Those warm, comforting eyes bore into the blue irises of his brother’s, seemingly piercing straight into his soul. Roger knew Freddie could read him like a book unlike anyone else. “Well...” Freddie began hesitantly. “I suppose he’s doing about as well as to be expected.”

At Freddie’s weak explanation on Miami’s behalf, Roger’s expression crumpled. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit down hard on his lower lip to hold back a whine, and felt physical pain in his chest, not just where his ribs rattled painfully with each breath. 

Absolutely broken. His heart was broken. Once again his life was broken.

He couldn’t help but let the dam break as well.

Sobs wracked Roger’s frail body, sending daggers of pain stabbing through his entire right side, but that didn’t even compare to the pain gripping his heart like a vice. He was beginning to lose his breath, but overwhelmed by intense emotional and physical pain, it was as if he didn’t even notice that little detail at all.

“Shh, Rog, easy now. You’re okay.” Freddie fluttered nervously beside Roger, unsure of if he could touch him without breaking him. “Oh, darling...” his hands softly smoothed over Roger’s shoulders and petted at his hair desperately. The older boy leaned over his immobile brother and tucked the younger boy’s head against his shoulder cradling him as best he could given the circumstances. Roger’s arms weakly raised to drape around Fred’s shoulders, hands clinging to the wool if his jumper. 

They stayed like that for several moments, holding each other. Freddie breathed slowly and deliberately in order to influence Roger to do the same. Eventually the blond’s tears and sobs slowed to a more manageable pace.

“Look Rog,” Freddie slowly pulled away a bit, giving his brother another once over. “It sucks I’m devastated, you’re devastated, and hell we all have the right to be. But we’re going to be just fine because not being fine isn’t an option. We will get through this, and we are not going to fall apart!” Freddie winced at his own words as he spoke them, trying desperately to sound confident. He searched Roger’s blue eyes for his reaction, gently weaving his fingers through his brother’s messy blond mop. He released a gentle sigh as he accepted the silence. “Darling, it will be alright. We’ll make it through.”

Another sob and a hiccup tore their way through Roger’s chest, rattling his ribs and yanking at his stitches. The pain he felt physically was only adding fuel to the fire that was the pain he felt emotionally. It was all too much for him. He wanted to scream and yell and cry out his devastation, but he couldn’t form words let alone translate his thoughts into them. Sobs were all he could manage for now. Awful, painful sobs.

**Author's Note:**

> There we go… please please please let me know what you think. I’m nervous about this one because it is very niche. Please drop a comment if you’d like to see this continue!


End file.
